


Healing Takes Two

by Riverside13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Rating May Change, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverside13/pseuds/Riverside13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the big revelation and fight goes down with Kate and Peter, Derek can’t deal with everything alone anymore. The only person he trusts even remotely is Stiles. Derek goes to his house one night because he genuinely can’t handle it, and has a panic attack in front of him. what will they do with the sudden realization that they both might be what the other needs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> First fic, woo! This takes place between the end of season 1 and the start of season two. But pretend Stiles has season three hair already because It’s the cutest ;) This is pretty much stupid fluff with all my fav tropes thrown in. Pretty OOC Derek, but I think if he hadn’t been able to cope anymore Stiles would have been the person he trusted most. And, Of course, Teen Wolf doesn't belong to me.

Stiles wasn’t really close to Derek in any way, even though circumstances constantly forced them to work together in a lot of bad situations. They had awkward banter that walked the line between being frenemies and making actual threats, Stiles was kind of a third wheel to Derek and Scott’s weird territory war, and they saved each other’s lives when they needed to. They never got close in any way beyond that, which might have had something to do with the turf war, or the intense way their relationship started, or just Stiles’ entire personality. Derek just really didn’t like Stiles. Or at least, that’s what Stiles had always thought, based on Derek’s constant threats and grumbling.

 

Which is why he was particularly surprised to wake up one night (early morning?) to Derek knocking on his window.

 

Stiles rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he pulled open his window. It had been unlocked.

 

“Dude, is the world ending? Again? Why didn’t you just come in?,” he blinked blearily. Derek looked… off. His shoulders were slumped, and his face was kind of nervous and angry, but he didn’t seem to be bleeding. Then again, werewolf, so Stiles started trying to wake up, preparing to process a new threat.

 

Derek shrugged a bit, and didn’t look Stiles in the eye as he answered, “The world isn’t ending, I just. Can I come in?”

 

Stiles stared at him for a moment, not quite sure what to make of this. Was Derek here to threaten him, or, something? Why would he come find Stiles if there wasn’t a new problem? But as he looked a little longer, he saw that Derek was making a face he’d never seen before, angry but not scowling, even sad. Stiles broke out of his sleepy fog a bit and realized Derek looked vulnerable. More than he ever had before, even after the shitstorm with Peter and Kate a couple weeks ago.

 

“Uh, yeah, sure? Are you sure the apocalypse hasn’t started without me? You never come just to visit, dude.” Derek just slides onto the floor and shuffles toward the bed a bit, with his head down, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He looks lost, and Stiles might still not trust him that much, but his heart twists a little at the tired, sad man in front of him.

 

Actually, Stiles realizes, he does trust Derek. After the shit they’ve been through together, what they’ve done for each other, Derek has proven that regardless of personal feelings, he will do what needs to be done to keep everyone alive.

 

Stiles doesn’t really know what to do with this situation, suddenly having an incredibly attractive and vulnerable man standing in his bedroom for, some reason, but when Derek opens his mouth to say something and just starts shaking, Stiles feels a rush of protectiveness and he reaches out to help him sit on the bed.

 

Stiles has always had an intense desire to comfort and take care of people, which takes precedence over most everything else, allowing him to focus and push himself to extremes in order to protect the people he cares about. Starting when his mom died and he set aside his own feelings for the sake of his dad, Stiles seems like a very light-hearted and uncaring person, because he sacrifices his own mental health, thinking it isn’t as important as everyone else’s. Stiles occasionally reveals the incredible depth and strength of his character when he needs to, to his friends’ surprise, and their low opinion of him hurts, though he would never say it.

 

“What’s wrong Derek? What happened? It’s okay, I just need to know what’s happening so I can help,” Stiles says quietly and calmly, shifting from his usual sarcastic self to the gentle persona he uses when his dad gets back into the bottle. Derek just looks at him with wide eyes, and Stiles’ concern level ratchets from Def-con 2 to Def-con 3 when Derek’s breathing picks up and he can’t seem to slow it down, but he keeps his heartbeat steady because he knows Derek can hear it. Derek’s eyes are bright red, and his claws come out of his shaking hands.

 

“Derek, I think you’re having a panic attack. I used to get them all the time after my mom died, it’s okay,” Stiles keeps talking quietly, forcing himself to calm down because Derek needs his help now, dammit. Stiles reaches out slowly and puts Derek’s hand over his heart.

 

“Feel my heartbeat, try to match your breathing to mine.” Derek looks even more scared for a second. “It’s okay if you can’t, it’s okay. Just keep breathing, you’re safe, I’m here, it’s okay.”

 

Stiles reaches out the hand not wrapped around Derek’s and runs it through his hair, surprised at it’s softness. Derek leans into Stiles’ shoulder, still shaking badly, and Stiles’ heart fills with motherly affection, even though he would never admit it to anyone.

 

They sit like that for about twenty minutes, as Derek gets his breathing under control and the shaking slowly stops. Stiles never takes his hands away, still petting his hair gently, whispering quiet reassurances every once in awhile, “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

 

Derek settles more firmly against Stiles, practically in his lap, head tucked into his neck, other arm wrapped around his shoulders tightly, careful of his claws. As Stiles feels the tension slide out of Derek, he relaxes too, comfortable and relieved, tucking his own head on Derek’s shoulder gently.

 

Eventually, Stiles decides that Derek is okay enough now that he needs some answers about what the Hell just happened, and lifts his head a little, not sure how exactly to begin.

 

“So.”

 

Derek tenses and his breathing speeds up a little again.

 

“No, it’s okay, I just need to ask, um. Why you’re here? If I need to worry about anything, new, attacking or something.” Stiles shifts a little, feeling awkward suddenly, realizing what just happened. Derek moves back quickly, creating a space between himself and Stiles, and Stiles misses the warmth and comfort. Derek looks less scared now, and more angry, but his eyes are still wide and his body is tight with tension.

 

“I’m sorry,” He starts, not making eye contact, “There isn’t anything new.” He pauses, and Stiles relaxes a little bit, looking curious and concerned as he waits for Derek to continue.

 

Derek’s face floods with anger and shame as he continues, voice rough and shaky, “I don’t know what happened, really, I was just in the loft and I started thinking about Kate, and Peter, and suddenly I couldn’t handle it anymore, and I started running to the safest place I could think of.” The shaking comes back and Stiles reaches out unconsciously.

 

Stiles floods with shame, remembering the way he’s been treating Derek, thinking the worst of him, forgetting what he’s been through. Realizing how tough it must be for this poor guy, who's been through hell the last few months, fuck, the last several years. Derek shuffles back, curling in on himself defensively, and he tries to sound menacing as he chokes out, “Stop, don’t.”

 

Stiles does stop reaching for him, though every instinct screams for him to hug Derek and take away some of his pain. He processes the last part of Derek’s statement. This is the safest place he has? Stiles feels cold splash through his stomach. He has literally no where else to go. I’m the only person he trusts. Wait, he trusts me? Oh my God, he trusts me. Stiles feels a flutter of happiness in his chest.

 

Stiles is knocked out of his thoughts by a thump and realizes Derek tried to get up and head to the window, but he only fell to the floor by the bed. He looks so helpless and scared Stiles just can’t take it anymore.

 

“Hey, where are you going?,” He says gently, reaching down to help Derek back up onto the bed.  
“First of all, don’t worry about having a hard time standing up, that happens after panic attacks sometimes, it’ll go away eventually.” He pulls Derek, unresistant, to the head of the bed, and pushes him until he let’s his head drop to the pillow.

 

“Second of all, there’s no way I’m letting you leave now, after that. Best case, you stumble back to the loft and spend the rest of the night alone. Worst case, you get a block away and have another panic attack, and then you’re helpless in the street in the middle of the night. You’re gonna stay right here, and sleep with me, no way in Hell am I gonna let you deal with this on your own.” Stiles lies down next to Derek, hoping he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. Derek just looks overwhelmed, and sad, and when Stiles reaches out to wrap an arm around him, his resolve seems so break and he snuggles into Stiles’ chest.

 

“Everything’s gonna be okay. We have a lot of stuff we need to talk about, but right now, getting you a good night’s sleep is top priority. We’ll work this all out tomorrow. Just relax.” Stiles wonders what the Hell tomorrow morning is gonna be like, but he knows it’s going to be Sunday, and his dad has to leave around six for work and won’t be back ‘till at least four, so they’ll have plenty of time.

 

Stiles sighs quietly, running his hand through Derek’s hair again, snuggling into him, and they are both asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I don't have a plan to update regularly, but I'm definitely gonna keep going. This is going to be mostly, if not entirely, extreme fluff and emotional support. I don't know how long it's going to be, but at least two more chapters, the next one will probably be Derek's POV. Any tips, suggestions, whatever would be appreciated!


	2. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt super inspired, so here's another chapter way faster than originally planned. Derek's POV this time.

The first thing Derek notices as he wakes up is how comfortable he is. The bed he’s in is soft, and the blankets are pulled up to his shoulders, smooth and warm. His head is on a fluffy pillow that smells familiar, comforting. Derek lets out a sigh of contentment, shifting slightly, and realizes his arms are wrapped around something warm, and soft, and definitely a person, uh, what the fuck?

  
  


Derek snapped his eyes open, looking down at the skinny boy nestled against his chest. Stiles. The previous night came back in a rush. The constant anxiety that had buzzed in his skull since the fire had been getting worse since Laura’s death, during the whole mess with scott and the strange alpha, and he knew when the big secrets were revealed that it was only a matter of time before he had some kind of breakdown. He had really, really hoped it wouldn’t be like Peter, and nobody would get hurt.

  
  


Looking down at Stiles again, Derek isn’t even able to process how he feels about the night before. His first, knee jerk reaction is to be terrified about his loss of control, his complete helplessness. The immediate thought following that was shame, and then burning hatred at himself, for not being strong enough to keep himself in check, allowing himself to be helpless, not trying harder, being better. His mouth twists into a disgusted snarl. He was absolutely pathetic.

  
  


Stiles shifts in his sleep, face slack and open, peaceful. Derek really doesn’t know what to think about Stiles, how always, before, he had been nothing but jittery, distracted, and sarcastic, but last night he was… he was gentle, and caring, and everything Derek needed him to be. Stiles saw him completely vulnerable last night. The thought makes Derek feel sick. 

  
  


He’d said more than he meant to. Stiles asked him what happened, and he just opened his fucking mouth and told him. Jesus Christ, he came to his house, had a panic attack, fucking cuddled with him on his bed, and told him he was the only person Derek trusted. What makes it even more disturbing is that it was true, he has literally no one else. Which doesn’t matter because he doesn’t need anyone else. He doesn’t need anyone, period. Derek glares at Stiles.

  
  


Who just lies there, hair mussed, with a gentle smile, comfortable in Derek’s arms. Derek feels a sudden desire to just close his eyes, lie down with him,  and keep sleeping. Which is disturbing. He’s never felt this comfortable with someone,not even before the fire, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. It’s absolutely terrifying to even consider trusting someone, but he’s definitely already given Stiles enough manipulation and blackmail material to last a long, long time. Derek cringes, and hopes that maybe, just maybe, Stiles won’t wake up and realize last night was a horrible mistake and use Derek’s weakness against him. 

  
  


Finally, Stiles started to roll over, sighing quietly as he rubs his face into Derek’s chest, who is still just lying frozen. Stiles blinks his eyes open, looking confused, before freezing and snapping his eyes up to meet derek’s. 

  
  


“You’re still here,” were the first words out of his mouth, and Derek had no idea what that meant. Was he supposed to leave? Did Stiles regret letting him stay? He kept his face blank, waiting for Stiles to clarify.

  
  


“I thought you would sneak out or something, you’re always sneaking. Away. You always leave as fast as you can, it’s super annoying and not useful. Sneaking is useful though, that skill has come in handy lately, good for you,” Stiles mumbles, smelling nervous, still obviously half asleep.

  
  


Derek has no idea what to do. He just feels so fucking confused, and guilty, and alone, and now here he is waking up in the bed of a seventeen year old he barely knows and has shoved into walls a few times, who tells him he’s good at sneaking. He can feel the panic building in his chest again, which is now extra terrifying, because when it happened last night it led to barely being able to think, or walk, or breathe. It must show on his face, because Stiles reaches up to rub circles into his back. 

  
  


“What are you freaking out about?,” he asks gently, still snug against Derek’s chest, relaxing, heartbeat steady. He’s doing it again, being comforting and gentle, and even though it makes him suspicious that Stiles is acting so unusual, Derek can feel its effect, bringing his heart rate down. 

  
  


“If you don’t tell me, I’m just gonna talk, and I won’t stop until you’ve calmed down a bit. It used to help when my dad did it for me,” Stiles says quietly. “I don’t know if you remember what happened last night. You came here and kinda freaked me out a little,” he smiles, “When you knocked on my window. You had a panic attack. You’re okay now, you can stay as long as you need to. I totally get it, you’ve been through Hell. I’m sorry I was always kind of bitchy to you, you just freaked me out a little, being a tall, grumpy creature of the night and all.” Derek feels the warmth of the blanket’s seeping into him, and let’s Stiles’ quiet voice roll over him. It really was helping. 

  
  


“If you don’t know what a panic attack is, it’s basically just your body deciding that for whatever reason, it’s time to freak out, right now, and you can’t do anything about it. You feel really scared and you can’t control your muscles and you might hyperventilate. It doesn’t cause any physical damage, but they can be pretty scary. Sometimes they’re triggered by something, a scary memory, stress, whatever, sometimes they just happen.” 

  
  


He frowns slightly, and looks serious for a second. “They can happen to anyone. It doesn’t make you weak to have panic attacks, okay? Even Tony Stark has panic attacks.” He looks Derek in the eye. “I know you well enough to know you’re going to try to avoid dealing with this, act like it didn’t happen, call yourself weak. But you’re not okay? You’ve been through some fucking traumatizing shit and you deserve better than the way Scott and I have been treating you. I’m serious about what I said last night, I’m not gonna let you go through this alone.” He curls his fingers slightly around Derek’s shoulder slightly, firm, but not threatening, like he’s afraid Derek is going to jump up and run away.

  
  


Derek still feels lost, but he’s surrounded by warmth and comfort that makes him feel sleepy and protected, and he can’t help but feel a bit safer than he has in a long, long time. He doesn’t have the first clue what to do with this gentle kid who gets it, and didn’t take advantage and didn’t call him pathetic, but he does believe Stiles, and he feels a gentle warmth in his chest.

  
  


“Thank you,” Derek says quietly, with a soft smile, brushing some of Stiles’ hair out of his face. Stiles looks shocked for a second, then flashes him a brilliant grin, suddenly rolling over him and pulling him into a hug, wrapping around him like a monkey. Derek is too shocked to respond, but Stiles is off of him as fast as he was on, and suddenly he’s falling out of the bed and standing quickly, straightening his clothes. 

  
  


“Well that was intense,” he says, grinning, “And now I’m hungry. Pancakes okay?” Derek nods, confused by his sudden change in tone. 

  
  


“Great! Come down when you’re ready, you can borrow some of my clothes if you can find any that fit, don’t worry about my dad, he’ll be working ‘till four.” His face lights up suddenly, and he starts backing to the door. “If we have eggs, I can make the batter from scratch! Much healthier and yummier than processed mix,” he says, face twisting in disapproval, before giving Derek a bright smile and a wave, and bounding out the door.

  
  


Derek watches him go, reeling from the sudden activity. He blinks at the door a few times, listening to Stiles opening cupboards and clinking bowls on the counter, before getting up to rummage through Stiles’ drawers looking for anything that might fit, hopefully with more luck than last time. He smiles when he hears the fridge opening, and Stiles’ delighted whisper, “Yeess, eggs,” and just knows he punched the air with that stupid grin. 

  
  
_I trust that idiot_ , Derek thinks, and doesn’t feel too worried about it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated, critiques, advise, whatever!


	3. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for taking so long with this one! My insomnia is making my life extra difficult right now. hope you like it!

Stiles is having the weirdest, best morning of his life. He woke up in the arms of Hottie McWerewolf, who turns out to be an incredible cuddler, and also apparently has some extreme anxiety issues. Which, after thinking back on his behavior since the first time they met, the paranoia and trust issues, violent threats, refusal to ask for help (most likely because he didn’t even realize it was an option), plus his traumatic history, is pretty fucking textbook and Stiles is ashamed he didn’t realize sooner. 

 

There’s something about sleeping next to someone that makes you feel closer to them, and if Stiles felt protective of Derek last night, the way he looked this morning wrapped in Stiles’ sheets, all cuddly and relaxed because of Stiles, had sealed his position at the top of Stiles’ “Must Protect and Feed” list.

 

Which is why Stiles is now humming and bouncing around the kitchen cooking homemade pancakes, both extremely content and very concerned. Content because there is nothing Stiles enjoys more than taking care of people, no matter who. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside to know someone is happy and healthy because of him. 

 

Concerned because Derek Hale is a fucking wreck, and Stiles doesn’t really know what to do. He knows how to handle most common anxiety symptoms because he had to figure it out for his own sake years ago, so he is absolutely in his element today. But what does he do after this? He can’t really tell Derek to get therapy, because he wouldn’t be able to talk about, like, three quarters of his problems, plus at this point there’s probably negative five percent chance he would listen to that advice anyway.

 

Actually, how the fuck does Derek feel about Stiles now? Last night Derek was completely out of it and this morning they were both barely awake. Will it be awkward during breakfast? Stiles purses his lips for a second, trying to apply his limited knowledge of Derek to this situation, quickly concluding that he actually knows fuck all about Derek. That’ll fix itself soon enough, since Stiles intends to become Derek’s best friend as quickly as he can. Stiles joyfully throws himself into pancake flipping, a task so simple his mind starts to drift into daydreams about making Derek smile, and laugh, and feel comfortable. 

 

Maybe it’s weird that Stiles derives such extreme pleasure from the thought of helping Derek. Stiles worries sometimes that his extreme protectiveness is creepy. Would his friends be creeped out if he showed that part of him more? Oh God, Derek is probably creeped out. Stiles swallows nervously, but doesn’t have time to ponder that thought long before he hears footsteps come into the kitchen behind him. 

 

he turns around with a smile, and nearly falls over when he sees Derek, wearing his sweatpants and a grey T-shirt that actually fits him okay, and the cutest bed head ever. He isn’t quite as tense as usual, slouching a bit with his hands in his pockets, and he actually gives Stiles a tiny, little smile. 

 

Stiles is nearly overwhelmed with a flood of warmth through his body, and he positively beams at Derek and says, “Good morning! There’s coffee in the pot, almost finished with the pancakes. help yourself, syrup’s on the table.” Derek shuffles over to grab a plate, avoiding eye contact, but still more relaxed than Stiles had ever seen him. After they both dish up and are sitting at the table, it doesn’t look like Derek wants to start the conversation, so Stiles plunges in headfirst.

 

“So, you have pretty extreme anxiety.” Derek bites his lip and looks away, so he quickly continues, “I know about anxiety. I’ve had it for years, I still have it. It’s horrible to try to deal with it by yourself. Last night was terrible, but I’m really, really glad you came to me. I know you don’t like talking, and it’s really important when you’re trying to deal with anxiety that you have someone who knows, and understands.” Stiles pauses, nervously looking down.

 

“I, um. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about it. I haven’t even told Scott. My dad is the only person who knows, and he only found out because I woke him up when I was having really bad nightmares and panic attacks. I try to hide it from everybody else, and I think I’m doing an incredible job considering you and Scott can hear my heartbeat. I make stupid jokes, act confident, don’t really say anything useful most of the time. Nobody really pays too much attention to me.” Derek looks at Stiles consideringly, and nods, as if Stiles had just answered a question he hadn’t asked.

 

Stiles swallows, and decides, fuck it, and keeps talking. “So, you and I are pretty much the only people that know about each other’s issues. Maybe we could be, like, anxiety buddies?” He winces, thinking about how stupid that sounded, afraid to look up at Derek. A few seconds of silence pass before Derek responds.

 

“Okay.”

 

Stiles jerks his head up, and sees Derek leaning toward him, head resting on his hand, looking nervous, but so sweet and soft that Stiles, who had always been very tactile, just wants to hug him. He unconsciously reaches towards Derek’s hand, before stopping himself and blushing, hoping Derek didn’t misunderstand the gesture. 

 

Derek looks at him for a moment, face twisting into uncertainty,before getting up and walking around the table, pulling Stiles from his seat, and wrapping him in his arms. Stiles is startled for a second, but quickly melts into Derek’s warmth, resting his head against his chest. Derek rubs his face is Stiles’ hair, and Stiles thinks that’s a bit weird for a friendly hug, but Derek explains falteringly, “It’s a, uh, wolf thing. To scent pack.” 

 

Stiles smiles and rubs his face against Derek’s chest, happy to be called pack. Derek continues quietly, “It’s more of a born wolf thing than a turned wolf thing, I think. Scott doesn’t seem to feel the need to scent or be scented like I do.” 

 

Realization dawns on Stiles. Derek said need. He’s been suppressing his need, actual need, for physical contact this whole time. The way Derek separates himself from everyone, which he’d always assumed was just him being antisocial, was probably him trying to keep himself isolated. Because of the being werewolf thing, and the paranoia, he felt like he didn’t have anyone he could trust, at all. Oh, God, he’d had such a large family, that suddenly was just gone, when he was still a kid. He’s completely touch starved. 

 

Stiles grabs Derek’s hands, pulls him from the kitchen into the living room, and pushes him onto the couch, ignoring his nervous, confused look, and throws himself down beside him. He then curls up into Derek’s side, practically crawling into his lap, swinging his legs over Derek’s, and tucking his head into his shoulder. Almost immediately Derek wraps himself around Stiles, running his hands over his back and burying his face in his hair, sighing softly. They shift slightly until they are both comfortably settled into the couch cushions. Stiles thinks Derek smells amazing, like clean cotton and lavender, probably from his soap. Derek doesn’t stop clinging to Stiles, tightly, but gently.

 

“Jeez, Derek. From now on when you need to talk or a snuggle or anything you better come to me right away. We are officially Cuddle Buddies and Anxiety Bros.” Stiles closes his eyes, luxuriating in the warmth and comfort of being so close to Derek, humming quietly. “Wow. It’s been so long since I've gotten to do this, I think I might have needed it as much as you.”

 

Stiles definitely needed this as much as Derek. It was different now than it had been in bed this morning, now that they were both fully conscious and no one was panicking, and they were still finding comfort in each other. Stiles thinks he and Derek are on the same page, but he’s still worried that when Derek leaves he won’t come back. The thought of going back to the way things were, being alone, sends a shiver down his spine. He’s afraid to say something, but he’s more afraid of Derek pretending like this never happened.

 

Stiles’ voice is small when he says, “Seriously Derek. Please come back, whenever. I’ve dealt with this on my own for so long, please, please don’t shut me out again.”

 

Derek curls his body even more around Stiles, until Stiles is against the cushions and Derek is almost completely covering him. Stiles would never say it out loud, but having such a strong, large man holding him so protectively made him feel incredibly safe. 

 

“Of course I’ll come back. I don’t want to leave,” Derek rumbles, nuzzling Stiles’ hair. “Call me whenever you want. Do you mind if I just show up? If I just climb through your window?” 

 

“Please do,” Stiles smiles, before sighing, knowing that they could only sit here for maybe an hour before he had to clean up the breakfast dishes and do homework. But that wasn’t really that bad, since he could now apparently have Derek come back all the time. 

 

Stiles can’t really wrap his head around everything that’s happened so far. Yesterday he would have assumed Derek liked him just enough not to murder him while he slept, and now they know each other’s most vulnerable secrets and are cuddling like there’s no tomorrow. 

 

What a fantastic turn of events, Stiles thinks, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, totally platonic cuddling between two very tactile people. Should I tone down the gay? I'm thinking I might try to skip the getting together freak out and get right into cute romance. Maybe some other characters, like worried parents or best friends, will disapprove? Let me know what you think!


End file.
